Headshot
by xChewy
Summary: Every action has a reaction. Ian's life is no exception, but when he winds up bringing Kevin home one night after knocking him out, he finds himself in deeper trouble than he's ever intended. Ian/Kevin, Ian Centric, Info and warnings inside.
1. A Minor Setback

Rarely do I write anything that I look back over and alter before posting it. Most of my stories are very spur-of-the-moment, in that sense. But _this _one… This one has been in a file for a few weeks now. And I've finally decided (with the prompting of a friend and a bit of blackmail to boot,) to post it and see. I know I've mentioned it before in the footnotes of other stories, so you may have seen it coming. But:

My first Ian/Kevin fic! More specifically, my first Ian-Centric. Now that I feel comfortable enough writing the Blitzkrieg Boys, this will be fun for the whole family.

It is a **Black Humor** story. For those of you who think I'm talking about Tyler Perry or racist jokes, Black Humor is: (n) the juxtaposition of morbid and farcical elements (in writing or drama) to give a disturbing effect. Basically, its humor stemmed from depressing events. Dark humor. So dark it's **black**. See what I did there? Laugh, damnit. I'm funny.

Anyway. Sorry.

**Warnings**: Eventual violence, murder, drug and gang reference (probably,) and language. If you can stomach my other fics, this one won't bug you much.

So… Enjoy! Thanks for reading.

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**Chapter One: A Minor Setback**

Beeping. Not a smoke detector, not a car door left ajar, just steady, unknown beeping. I open my eyes and let them slowly adjust to the dark ceiling above me. What, in the name of all that is sweet and salty on this planet, is making that noise?

I roll my head to the left. Then the right. Spotting the soft glow of the digital clock, I recognize that it's the culprit. Do you have any idea how rude you're being? You're telling me that it's two in the morning, and yet you appear more than happy to wake me up. I must have screwed up in setting this thing last time I tried to mess with it.

Now then. A normal human being would have gotten up long before now and smacked the crap out of the offending clock. They would have uttered some sort of obscenity, rolled over, and gone back to sleep. But me? Well, I'm not normal. I just look at the clock and count the minutes that go by. The glowing green numbers flicker a grand total of twenty three times before I hear the door crack open and someone come in. Hidden beneath a mound of blankets, we can't see each other. I just watch as their arm appears in my view and turns off the alarm. The click it makes is the final say in the battle between silence and beeping, and with that, the arm vanishes from view. Several moments pass. I'm not sure if they left or not…

"Ian?"

Damn.

"Ian."

This time, it's not a question. I groan and push the blankets off, sitting up. There, standing next to me, is Tala. I glare at him. He sighs and glances back toward the doorway awkwardly.

Wanna know why? Because exactly four hours ago, at 10:46pm on a Thursday night, Tala beat me up.

This, you see, is Bryan's job. And even he doesn't do what Tala did. Bryan knocks me upside the head, or punches me in the arm. And yeah, it hurts. But Tala actually _beat me up_. And I, being the ever faithful and considerate individual, would happily enjoy telling you what happened in detail.

Just let me clear my mental throat first.

Ahem.

It was just Tala and I. Bryan was out watching some sort of horror movie, (which he likes to go see on opening night and laugh at loudly, because nothing scares him and he enjoys pissing people off,) and for once Spencer actually had somewhere to go. I believe it involved paper work, but I figured he was out getting laid or something. Good for him, right? Right.

Anyway. I was watching mindless television when Tala strode into the room. Looking up, I frowned and rolled my eyes. I always, _always_ roll my eyes when I see him. Not sure why. Just do.

"And what are _you_ pissed about?" I asked, in the same snide tone that I always use.

Apparently, he and Kai had been on the phone for roughly an hour arguing, and then Kai told him to kindly go fuck himself, and hung up. Being the only outlet around, Tala immediately stormed away from the phone to find me, and with only a small amount of banter between us, he…

Okay, so it was a lot of banter. I was tired, he was pissed, we both lost control of ourselves, and after he swung and missed, I caught him in the jaw, and from there it wound down to him over powering me and beating me up. What was the argument even about? I can't remember. Something pointless, I'm sure.

"Ian, I need to talk to you."

"No you don't." I saw, stiffly straightening myself out. He blinks before glaring, starting in on another bitch session before he catches himself.

"Your attitude earlier was unacceptable."

My eyes open wide.

"And I demand an apology."

A… But…

"Ian?"

… Did he just say what I think he just said? Did he really… to my face? I…

I'll tell you what I do. I shove the blankets off and stand up straight, coming eye to sternum. Despite his height, I am undeterred.

"You want an apology for being beat up by you?" I ask, almost rhetorically. He suddenly doesn't look so sure of himself.

"Why don't you take that shitty attitude of yours and blow it out your ass!"

And I run. I turn and run out of the room, out of the apartment, down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the building. I'm barefoot, with shorts and a plain white t-shirt on. It's about sixty degrees outside, so though at first it doesn't mean much to me, I eventually start to feel an unsettling chill creep down my skin.

Eventually, I reason with myself that Tala isn't following, and stop running. Walking briskly down the street, my feet padding on the cement almost silently, I begin to brood and grumble and curse my team captain. Who does he think he is? I know he's a self absorbed prick, but that shouldn't account for what he did. I bet if I go back there within the next eighteen to twenty hours, he'll still be pissed off and ready to lunge at me.

In the streetlights, I can see the bruises that are developing on my arms and legs. I can feel them on my back, and on my chest. I'm aware that I'm getting a black eye, because try as I may, I'm having an increasingly difficult time keeping my right eye open all the way. I wonder if I could go find some nice person who would give me a cup of water and an ice pack? I bet if I told them I got beat up by some bullies or something, they'd feel bad for me. I may not be the cutest thing around, but I still look like a kid if I try. They'd take pity on that, right? I mean, who is that heartless? Besides Tala, I guess. God, what a prick-

_Fwump_.

Not paying attention to what's going on, I turn a corner just in time to run directly into someone. We stumble, both startled by the sudden impact, and I end up falling forward while they fall back. When we hit the ground, I'm on top of them. I can hear, very significantly, the _thwack_ as their head crashes against the pavement. And the second I can think clearly, what word flashes through my head? '_Lawsuit_'.

The figure moans beneath me. Whoever it is, they're smaller then me. A kid? No, that voice isn't exactly prepubescent. And besides, it's pretty late for a kid to be out wandering around.

I push myself up and kneel there, still on top of them. The face throws me off completely when I finally see it, and I gasp awkwardly. He moans again and reaches up to grab his head.

"I know you!" I bark. He flinches and groans loudly at the sudden burst of noise caused by yours truly. Bad move.

He rolls onto his side and I spot it. That unmistakable smudge of red on the cement where his head hit. His hair is slowly being matted with the stuff, and his hands – now gripping the back of his head in pain – are getting covered in it. Without thinking, I push up and grab hold of his shoulders, lifting him into a sitting position.

"Oh shit." I say. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit indeed. He groans and squirms away from me a little, looking up through a veil of hair at my face. It takes him a minute to recognize me, but his facial expression takes an interesting turn when he does.

"I-Ian?"

"Evening, Kevin." I say before I can stop myself. He looks away from me and pulls his arms down, studying his hands.

"Shit, my head…" He mutters. I watch his form sway and catch him by the shoulders when he leans into me suddenly, losing consciousness.

Crap.

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And we're off.

Please review, or Kevin will lapse into a coma and die! D:


	2. Please Repeat That

Yeah, I know, it's only been four days, so sue me. But I have nothing else to do, and I can't go to sleep until my brother beats this all-important video game, so here we are.

I think I'll just sit and daydream now. :/ Meh.

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**Chapter two: Please Repeat That**

"So that's what happened."

Spencer looks at me hard before sighing and running a hand over his face. "And you brought him here?"

"Well I figured you'd want time to think of a place to hide the body."

"Ian," he starts. I continue undaunted.

"I mean, he's not big, so it shouldn't be hard."

"I will give you another black eye if you don't shut up right now."

Spencer looks at me another minute with his warning look before he leans forward from his spot on the coffee table. His shoulders cast a big shadow over the small form on the couch before him.

"You make it sound like I have extra eyes." I mutter, making an attempt to roll the two I _do_ have and failing. He ignores me.

"How long has he been like this?"

I shift my position on the arm of the sofa so that I'm facing him directly, and glance down at the unconscious face before my feet.

"I got the bleeding to stop about an hour and forty minutes ago, but he's been out for about two hours."

"And no one else was here when you got back?"

I frown. "No. Tala left."

"Bryan?"

"Probably out drinking."

Spencer looks at me hard for a silent moment. "You really shouldn't have brought him here."

"Well what choice did I have? He was conscious long enough to recognize me and say my name, so ditching him at the hospital wasn't such a great idea, now was it?"

The big brute sighs and rubs his eyes again, standing. He retrieves the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and carefully covers Kevin with it. I blink, having only seen him be so gentle with non-human things.

"You have to call his team in the morning."

"It is the morning."

"You have to call his team when it's _not_ four A.M.." He says, tossing an exhausted glare at me. "And don't fuck this up any more than you already have."

I roll my eyes and nod and do whatever it takes to get him to just go away. When he's gone, I stare after him for a few minutes before looking down at Kevin again. He looks so… calm. Comfortable, almost, although I know I'm just kidding myself about that. I watch him for a while, my eyes glazing over in thought, before Spencer's voice tugs me back to reality.

"You idiot. Tala is sleeping in your bed." He hisses. I look at him a moment, letting the information sink in, before my teeth clench. That irritating prick is in _my bed_? Spencer continues, obviously not as perturbed as I am.

"Just…" He mutters. "Sleep on the floor or something. If you sleep in his bed he'll kill you."

"Why would I sleep in _his_ bed?" I snap, shoving myself off the couch. I push out my chest to example defiance, like I saw an ape do on the Discovery Channel once. Spencer is unimpressed.

"So sleep on the floor." He sighs, moving to turn out the lights. My eyes narrow.

"Screw _that_. I'll bunk on the couch with Veggie Boy."

The lights click out.

"If you _need me_," I continue, "I'll be _comfortable_and _unavailable_."

Spencer is gone. I sigh, letting my chest fall as I turn around. The sofa is pretty deep, and there's plenty of room on it, but I feel awkward moving Kevin up against the back of the couch. He's so limp. If you've ever pushed someone who's unconscious around, you'll know how weird it feels. I keep thinking he'll wake up, but even as I slide onto the cushions beside him and steal half the blanket, he doesn't stir.

Man, what a great roommate.

-x-x-x-

Something warm pushes against my chest gently, and my arms wrap around it tighter. Whatever it is, it's soft and smells nice, like scented candles or something. For a few minutes everything about this situation feels totally normal, before I begin to recognize where I am, and what I'm doing.

My eyes open to find a mop of green hair tucked beneath my chin. Kevin had, at some point, rolled over into me. I didn't know people could do that when they're unconscious. Looking at him now, I recognize a certain amount of emotion on his face: something he didn't have a few hours earlier. I wonder if people come out of an unconscious state and immediately go into sleep mode? I adjust my arms without much thought and watch him closely, noting the reaction.

His breathing shifts and he sighs. His eyelids flutter for a minute before they crack open; Veggie Boy is no longer a veggie.

I'm just starting to compose my thoughts when his eyes open in full alert, and he sits up. The motion must have brought a rush of blood to his head, because in the next instant he's on his back again, holding his head in apparent agony. I scramble off the couch and fall to a sitting position on the coffee table, like Spencer had been doing the night prior.

"I guess I don't have to tell you not to do that again, huh?"

He doesn't look at me. Very slowly this time, he sits up and leans back into the sofa, one hand never leaving the back of his head. When he does eventually squint up at me, I've shifted to a cross legged position, and I guess it's making me look over-eager, because he's glaring pretty venomously.

"What happened?" He growls, his voice strained. I try a smile and regret it, because the glare darkens considerably at the sight.

"You um. Fell."

"I fell."

"Yeah."

"... And now I'm here."

"Yes."

"Where the hell is 'here', Ian." It isn't a question, and for a moment I can't help but compare him to the way Tala was acting last night. Then again... that might not be too far off, judging by the look I'm getting from him.

"Well... It's the apartment my team has while we're here. Duh."

"_Ian_."

"And you're here because," I continue immediately. I can't tell whether or not I want to mess with him, but I'm starting to think better of it. "We collided last night around a corner and you fell, and then hit your head, and then you passed out. And I had no where else to bring you."

Kevin looks at me like I'm an idiot, and just as he's opening his mouth - probably to suggest the hospital or some other fine medical establishment - the front door opens on the other side of the room, and in walks Bryan.

He doesn't seem to give two shits that Kevin is here. He walks right passed, smelling faintly of beer and popcorn, and strolls right into the hallway out of sight. We both watch him as he passes through the room, like he's the most interesting thing in the world. Even after he vanishes, we both stare down the hallway for a minute before blinking our attention back to one another.

"... What were we talking about?" Kevin muttered, sliding off the couch now and looking around the floor for something. I watch him without much concern.

"How I was thoughtful enough to provide a roof for you to sleep under while you were unconscious."

"Sleeping and being unconscious are two very different things." He mutters, almost beneath his breath. He's moving around the corner of the couch now, and just before he has to get around behind it, he finds what he's after. When he turns around, he has his bag in his hands. I think for a moment how big it looks, but let it go.

"Yeah, well, you get the point: I'm hospitable beyond all doubt, and you were in the process of thanking me."

I actually believe that he can't remember what we were just talking about. He seems extremely distracted, and he starts rooting through his bag for something only to allow something else to catch his attention. It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually pulls out a small white container and a clear plastic bottle of water.

"Thank me any time, then," I continue, a little cautiously. He pops off the lid of the small white container and glances up at me, eyes tight in pain.

"Why? _I_ got them out of my bag."

"No, not that. For bringing you here."

"What? When?"

"Last night."

He considers this for a moment before tipping two pills from the little bottle and recapping it. "This isn't exactly a Sandals Resort. I don't see why I should thank you."

I could slap my face with my palm, but I don't think I will. "No, I mean when you hit your head."

"Is that why I have this _excruciating_ headache?"

"Yes. Well... Yes." I lean back now and break from my cross-legged position, adjusting myself carefully. Despite his attitude, I'll commend him for his vocabulary, at least. He pops the pills into his mouth and takes a swig from the water bottle, flinching a bit before relaxing back against the couch. His head drops back slowly and he examines his hands.

"Is that dry blood?"

I sigh. "Yeah. It took a while for me to get it to stop."

"What's a while?"

"Um... A little under a half an hour?"

He gives me that look again, just a straight look that's transparent enough for me to know that he's thinking. Then, before I'm ready for it:

"You wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?"

"Um. No. Well, yes, but... Maybe."

I think I see him roll his eyes, but I'm not sure. I get up and lean forward until I can see the clock in the kitchen. "It's a quarter after nine."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah."

He gets quiet again. I fall onto the couch beside him heavily and he flinches, hissing a bit in pain. "Oh, sorry." I mutter pathetically. Then, after a bit of thought, "Why do you ask?"

He rolls his head toward me apathetically and blows the hair out of his face.

"Because I was supposed to get hit by the five A.M. bus."

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Wait, what?

I bet if you review, I'll be more inclined to update sooner, and you'll find out faster! :D


	3. Harboring a Witness

I've been updating pretty frequently lately. Is this good, or bad? I can't tell.

Anyway, here's the next chapter. If the _last_ chapter left you madly confused, then hopefully this will help answer a few questions.

Enjoy~

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I can't believe it's only ten. It feels like we've been sitting at this freaking table for a year and a half, but it's probably all the awkward energy that's making it feel that way. After all, Tala had to figure out what was going on eventually, and he never reacts well to this sort of thing. Not that it's happened before, but... you know.

He's sitting across the table from Kevin, just staring at him. My guess is that he's hoping the kid'll crack under 'the intensity of his glare'. But he's hardly blinked, let alone shown fear. I don't think he really cares about Tala, which must be getting under the prick's skin by now, because he finally sighs.

"So why are you still here?" He asks, running a hand over his face and adjusting his position on the chair, trying to look bored and uninterested. Kevin shakes his head.

"You haven't said I could go."

"I'm not keeping you here."

"You demanded I give you an explanation."

"And it's a bullshit one."

"If you feel that way, then sure. But it's not."

I'm behind Tala at this point, trying to get something down from the cabinet above me. I feel like an idiot, but at least no one is paying me any attention. From my vantage point, as I glance over my shoulder, I can see Kevin with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks bored, almost.

"So you want me to believe that you were trying to - and forgive me, I find this funny," Tala adds, making a point of chuckling, "'fake your own death'?"

Kevin's eye twitches just so, and he straightens his back. "_No_. I needed the distraction or I'll never get out of here."

"A distraction," Tala repeated. "So you were going to _fake_ getting hit by a bus."

"Yes."

At this, the redhead rises and glances back at me before pushing his chair in under the table. He stands there, blankly staring for a few more minutes. Then, finally,

"Who the fuck do _you_ have to run away from?"

This question seemed to finally hit an emotional nerve with Kevin, judging by the sinking look on his face. Before he can answer, however, in strolls Spencer. He had left about thirty minutes earlier to finish up what he had been working on the night prior, and now that he's returned from the cavernous depths of his room, we all fall very quiet. My fingers finally find the rim of the bowl I'm looking for, but I just hold the position, waiting.

"You haven't sent him off yet?" Spencer asks in a bored tone. I can tell this situation is intriguing to him, but he won't let on that it does.

"He's trying to pull a Houdini on someone."

"David Blane," Kevin mutters, just loud enough for Tala to hear it and demand he repeat it. Kevin shakes his head indignantly, and for a second I think I see Tala's face color match his hair. I smile, tugging the bowl down and turning around. Despite the humor I've found in the brief exchange, no one else notices it. Kevin is getting very uncomfortable all of a sudden, and I see him eye the door from across the apartment.

"I think you should stay." Spencer says suddenly, stepping so close to Tala so fast that he steps back instinctively. Both Tala and Kevin look toward him, shocked. I have a similar reaction, but it's not as strong; I was, after all, thinking the same thing. I wonder if I can interject, but Tala's face tells me otherwise.

"Absolutely not. We don't even know what he's running _from_. What if he's some drug dealer with a price on his head?"

I laugh, without thinking. He only spares me a momentary glare, so I don't have time to give him props for the imagination.

"I'm trying to get away from Lee." Kevin's voices chips in. It's oddly steady, what with the weight his words are carrying. We all look toward him and fall quiet, our faces blank. Kevin continues.

"You guys obviously know what it's like to a dick for a captain."

I laugh again, this time much louder and involuntarily. Oddly enough, Tala doesn't even seem to notice.

"Lee Yin?"

"Who else could I be talking about?"

Silently, Tala contemplates how he can use this sudden, unexpected information to his advantage. He becomes very still, and Spencer looks from Kevin to Tala with a 'I told you so' look on his face. I stand behind and between them, watching Kevin curiously. Something about his confession seems off, but we'll know soon enough, I guess.

Maybe Lee beat him up too? I start making a million and a half parallels between Tala and my idea of Lee, and gradually, I come to understand why Kevin would want to leave.

"How did you plan on paying for anything?" Tala asks slowly.

"I have money."

"A lot?"

"Obviously not." Kevin sighs, his eyebrows narrowing. Tala is annoying him, now more than ever. There's another long pause before Spencer takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"It's not up to Tala anyway, Kevin. You're welcome here."

Tala turns toward him sharply. "What?!"

"I'm the one in charge of all the money and _paying_ for everything. If you put up any more of a fight with this you can kiss your precious hair product goodbye."

The redhead deflates considerably, and after a moment of severe internal struggle, he 'hmph's and stalks out of the room. The smile on my face is growing painful, but I can't help it; this is the most brilliant moment of my life.

"But you need to tell us the real reason why you need to disappear, Kevin." Spencer sighs, moving now toward the fridge. Kevin stiffens.

"I did-"

"No, you didn't. I know. So whenever you're ready."

I glance back toward the newcomer. He looks like someone had just dumped a couple gallons of ice water on him.

"I... saw someone do something."

Spencer gives him a 'uh-huh' as a sign to keep going. He's buried in the fridge now, trying to dig passed all the crap to get to one of his precious iced coffees.

"And they saw me seeing them doing the something."

Spencer stands upright. "Who doing what?"

I sit down carefully, trying my best to stay as uninvolved as I can. It's like watching a Martin Scorsese film. Kevin clears his throat awkwardly and sits up straighter. He doesn't look sure of himself at all, and for some reason it makes him look even smaller.

"You know Eli Holden? That local 'champion'?"

"... Ye_esss_..." Spencer's eyebrows narrow, no longer sure of himself. Wait, who? I've never heard of him. Why am I so out of the loop?

"Well... I kinda saw him... shoot someone."

There's a very brief pause after he says it, in which we just look at him. Then, almost completely synchronized, Spencer and I come out of the shock. "What?"

"Yeah. And um. He saw me see him do it, so now... I'm kinda... screwed?"

"And you're trying to disappear?" I ask, leaning in. Sweet, we're harboring a... fugitive? Not really. What do they call someone who has to go into protective custody?

"If what you're saying is true, Kevin, then trying to vanish isn't a good idea. Things in real life don't work like they do in the movies." Spencer is saying. I still can't figure out what to call him, and my mind won't let me move on, despite how serious the situation has just become. One of these days I'm really going to have to sit back and reevaluate my priorities... Witness! Okay, he's a witness. Don't know how that one slipped my mind.

"I know that," Kevin sighs, "But what else can I do? My decision-making paradigm is particularly small right now."

Jesus, what is with this kid and the way he talks? It's like he's channeling a Harvard professor half the time.

"Tell the police?"

Well, maybe not a _Harvard_ professor. But you know.

"I did. And he found out."

"So _he's_ an enemy of the state now." I say, still trying to further specific the role Kevin is playing. They both stop and look at me like I'm an idiot before Spencer sits down at the table.

"And you're still running. So he's at large?"

"Yes."

"And your team didn't want to help?"

"They don't think anything is going to happen."

Spencer sighs and rests his elbows on the table, peering down at Kevin in a scrutinizing manner. He's obviously not as excited about this as I am.

"So why didn't you just tell us? Why lie about Lee?"

"Because I know Tala doesn't like Lee. And on the spot, it seemed like a good thing to say if I wanted to appeal to his better nature."

I smile and resist the urge to offer him a high five. Suddenly, in the light of the lamp that hangs over the kitchen table, he looks so...

"Well, it worked. You can still stay, I guess."

Cute.

"You sure?"

Did I just say cute?

"Yeah, why not? We've all broken some law at least once, so I'd be a hypocrite to throw you out."

I said cute.

"Thanks. What about, um... Bryan?"

And I really mean it. Now that I saw it, I can't unsee it.

"He doesn't give a crap. Believe me."

He smiles and my face falls blank, just gazing at him. If he looks over, this'll be awkward. But he doesn't seem to be about to do that.

"Anyway. You look hungry," Spencer continues, standing. "The food is meant to be eaten, so go crazy, okay?"

I finally blink and look away, a little flustered.

"I promise not to eat _everything_. I'll chip in what I can."

This is bad. I look at him again, but he just keeps looking cuter and cuter.

"Don't bother. Save your money for when you need your stuff repaired, because these idiots are bound to break something at some point."

He laughs, just enough for my to drop my eyes down to my cereal as means of escape. This is bad. I can't find him attractive.

"Good to know."

Oh boy.

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Sorry about this one. I know its all dialog, but it's _important_ dialog, so… yeah. :/ It'll start picking up now that you guys no more of the plot. :3 Promise.

Please review!


	4. He's Really Warm

Updated sooner than I had planned, but it's all for the better of mankind. So you know. Eh.

Looking at the eight chapters I have written for this, I realize it moves a bit slow. So when I move on to the write the rest of it, I'll try to pick it up. ; ; **BUT IT'S NOT BORING**, at least to me. So please don't give up on me. D:

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Spencer, the ever benevolent and considerate dictator of who-sleeps-where, decided that I could choose between my bed and the couch. Either way, Kevin would get my bed. Having already experienced my share of awkward emotional swells earlier this morning, I chose the couch, and that is where I am now.

I got nothing done today. Staring at the dark ceiling, I realize this in a passive, uncaring manner. Not to say that I get a lot done to begin with, but I had planned to at _least_ beat that videogame. I guess Kevin showing up made that hard to do, but either way... Wait. The game is on my PSP, isn't it? I'll just go get that and play it now; it's not like I can sleep anyway.

I sit up and push the blankets back. Night two of sleeping on the sofa, and I realize that without anyone else around, it's a very lonely adventure to undertake. I push my feet against the cool carpet and stand, moving awkwardly through the dark with my arms out before me. I manage to travel all the way down the hallway to my door, but it creaks when I open it, like it's trying to spoil everything. Just to spite me.

"Sonuvabitch." I hiss, gripping the door to stop it from making any more noise. It's about a foot open, and with effort I slide through, only causing one more faint squeak.

The room is way darker than I normally leave it. My bag is around the bed beside the bedside table, on the far side of the room. (Can I say 'side' any more in one sentence?) I move toward it with great hesitance, aware that I'm likely to screw up. Just as I'm leaning around the bed and starting the final stretch of my mission, something shifts beneath the blankets.

"Ian."

The voice startles me so badly that I jolt to the side, trip over my own feet, and fall flat on my back beside the bed. There's a moment of silence before I grown and sit up. My already bruised muscles ache dully, and I glare forward into the darkness.

"What are you doing?"

I look up in the direction of the voice, and see two eyes peering out from the blankets at me. Even in this blackness, they're glowing a faint purple. Like a cat's. Thrown off by this, I just stair at him a minute. All I can see is his eyes, like those cartoons where the lights go out and you can still see the two white circles showing. Come to think of it, he suddenly reminds me of the Cheshire cat. Hm.

"Ian."

Oh, right. Talking. I stand awkwardly, in an attempt at regaining whatever dignity I still have after that fall. "I came to get my PSP."

"Can't sleep?"

"Um... No." My bag is about two feet from me, but instead of apologizing and moving to leave, I just stand there. Kevin sits up, and I can practically_feel_ the warmth rise from the little nest of blankets. Man I want to be in there... I miss my bed...

"That couch isn't very comfortable." He sighs, looking down at my bag. It's the only thing I could possibly have been moving to get on this side of the bed.

"Why is it so warm in here?" I ask, suddenly. I think, for a minute, that it might be rude to ask, but decide better of it. It is _my_ room after all. I have a right. He looks up at me sleepily, adjusting his plain white shirt a bit.

"Probably the laptop," he sighs, moving the blankets to reveal a rectangular shape. I can see now, as my eyes adjust, that a black cord is trailing away from it off the bed. A small green light blinks on the corner of it, shining just bright enough for me to squint.

"You have a laptop?"

"Yeah. It was Lee's. It's pretty old."

"Better than not having one." I sigh. He looks up at me then, those two eyes blinking curiously.

"Can you sleep in here tonight?" He asks, his voice hardly audible at all. "I'm used to people being around me."

I just look at him, caught completely off guard. His eyes drop away, and I imagine he's blushing. But, obviously, I can't tell.

"Sure." I blurt, too quickly for it to not sound awkward. He looks back toward me then, not even bothering to hide the hope in his eyes.

"Really?"

"Well, it's a big bed." I explain, looking toward the door. "And you know. It's _my_ bed."

He just smiles through the darkness and moves aside, pulling the laptop with him. I glance one final time down at my bag before joining him amongst the blankets. It's so warm and cozy that the urge to sleep practically slaps me across the face. The second I lie down, he tugs the blankets up over us and rolls away from me, cuddling the laptop for even more warmth. I look at him for a minute, smiling.

"Night Kevin."

"Shh."

-x-x-x-

"Ian."

Fphmmm.

"Ian!"

Ngh-snrrt... mnnn...

"_Ian!_"

Ah! I jolt upward, eyes snapping open to find Kevin sitting in front of me. My legs are spread and he's perched between my knees, but he might as well be on my lap.

"What?!" I cry, looking passed him and expecting to see a fire. He hugs his knees closer to his chest and looks at me with faint concern.

"Tala said someone stuck a knife in the door."

I... Wait, what?

"With a note."

"A note?" I repeat stupidly, drawing my arms up to rub the sleep from my eyes. Owshit-... Let me rephrase: I reach my arms up to rub my _one_ eye. Regardless, when I open them again, he's still staring at me. I recognize the fear, somewhere deep in those purple pools, and my back stiffens.

"Well..." I try, pulling my legs into a cross-legged position and blinking like an owl to wake myself up. "What does it say?"

He looks at me solidly, his eyebrows settling into an _almost_ sarcastic frown. He seems to want to say something on impulse, but he manages to suppress it. It's more than I can say for myself, at least. He leans in then, and I lean the other half of the way. I think he's about to say something important, but quietly.

"That your mother is giving discounts this week and this week only."

I blink. Then, after a pause:

"What?"

He sits back and laughs, but it fades away nervously. I just look at him. I guess if this note is real, and it's a problem, I would do the same thing; crack a joke, that is. He sobers up pretty quick and drops his gaze.

"It says that I can't hide here forever."

Really? Well that sucks. I watch him for a long minute, but he won't look back up at me. Hesitantly, I reach forward and push a few fingers against his shoulder, just to get his attention. He blinks, startled, and looks up at me like he had forgotten that I was here.

"You'll be okay." I say, a little surprised at how steady my voice is. "You'd be surprised at how quickly Tala gets attached to things. He won't let... who's-his-name hurt you."

"Eli."

"Right, Eli... How do you even spell that?"

He smiles, but ignores my question. Maybe he thinks it was a joke. But now I really want to know how you spell 'Eli'.

"Thanks for um... sleeping with me last night."

My face heats up. Just the way he worded it is forcing my mind into dark places. "No problem; I'll sleep in my own bed whenever you want."

"Okay."

"What?" Wait, did I just say that? He laughs a bit. Then, quietly,

"You sure I'll be okay here?"

I nod with conviction. "Yeah, you'll be fine. The cops'll find him soon, anyway."

He nods and studies my shirt. I blush a little, realizing which shirt I'm wearing, but before I can cover it up, he's smiling again.

"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, huh?"

I try glaring, but a smile pulls onto my face and ruins it. "Shuddup. I'm sure you have some secret childhood vice as well."

He rolls his eyes, 'pft'ing. I like the way he looks when he smiles like that.

Our attention is pulled away from each other at the sound of knuckles wrapping against the door frame. Tala leans in, looking tired and irritated.

"You two are staying here today."

I groan audibly. "What? I had plans!"

No, I do not have plans. Don't tell Tala.

"Screw 'em. You and Bryan are staying here while Spencer and I go find some stronger locks."

Kevin looks away then, upset or guilty or embarrassed; I can't honestly tell. I sigh and avert my eyes as well, but not for any of those reasons; I'm still plenty pissed at Tala. He leaves without saying anything more, and Kevin and I sit in silence for a while. I'm aware that to my far left, the digital clock is letting the minutes flick by without my approval. Finally, Kevin rubs his upper right arm thoughtlessly and sighs.

"I'm sorry. I should just go."

I look toward him, this time with hard eyes. I understand what he's going through, but I suddenly have no tolerance for this pity act. My hand shoots out and finds his, and I grip it firmly. I don't know why I'm holding his hand, so don't ask.

"Cut that out, you're not leaving. Okay?"

He seems a little thrown by the hand thing, but after a silent pause I feel, almost miraculously, a gentle squeeze back. "Okay," he whispers.

I nod once, feeling my cheeks warm. Still, I hold the look; somewhere, my man card is fighting for its right to exist, and I'm determined to help it.

"Good."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Oh Ian, you emotionally-supportive rock you.

Please review!


	5. Foreboding Plot Device

So, for those of you reading Captive: HOLY SHIT it's been two months, I'm _so_ sorry. At some point, life got weighed down with SATs and Career Requirements and term projects, and during that time I plum forgot. But now that I recognize my lapse in updating, I WILL UPDATE THAT NEXT BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE.

To those of you who don't care about that: Hi, here's an update. :)

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kevin's taken over the couch again. I know, by now, that if I try to reclaim the bed while he's there, I'll just lose it in the future, so I let it go.

Actually, I've left him alone most the day. Tala and Spencer are still out, and Bryan hasn't really shown much of himself. As the morning bled into the afternoon, I realized that Kevin wasn't in the mood to chat and be chummy, but rather that he wanted to be left the hell alone. Happy to oblige lest I ruin his image of me, (as tattered as it might already be,) I have not spoken to him.

He's just... staring at his feet. I guess he likes to sit with his knees pulled up to his chest like that, because once he pulled them up they haven't stretched back out. From my spot by the doorway, I can see that he's picking at the threads of the blanket beside him.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, ruining my record twenty-four minutes without disturbing him. It's the first time I've spoken to him, but on record I've tripped over the coffee table, sneezed rather violently, and answered the phone in the rudest manner possible. (Caller I.D. alerted it was one of those asshole telemarketers who can't take no for an answer.)

He doesn't move much from his position, but after a minute he responds. "What happened."

I nod, even though he can't see me do it. Sauntering toward him carefully, I lower myself onto the couch and watch him tug a thread free.

"What you saw?"

He thinks about what I'm asking, but ultimately comes to the only answer he can give me. "Yeah."

I start picking at the blanket too. If this turns into a super heart-felt exchange, maybe we can unravel the thing by five.

"You wanna talk about it?"

He pushes his lips up against his knee for a moment, glancing at me in a hostile manner. "Do you want to hear it?"

"Yeah." I confess, looking over at him to make sure he's not about to lunge at me. I have a feeling he can kick my ass. Doesn't his team all know like, Kung Fu, or something? He adjusts his feet and looks back to the quilt.

"It was like... four nights ago. I missed the train home and had to walk. So I figured I would take the route that leads passed the BBA building, right? And when I'm passing one of the alleyways, I hear this resonating gunshot. I should have just kept walking, but... I had to go check it out."

His voice suddenly gets quieter. "When I got around the corner, I could see this _really_ familiar looking guy, pointing a gun at someone who was lying on the ground. Like a mobster movie, you know? And he shot the guy two more times, just to make sure he was dead."

I look up at him, eyes wide. "You _saw this_? Like, you were _there_?"

"Yeah." He mutters, pulling out a whole string. It's about five inches long, and he sits back to fiddle with it, ignoring the rest of the blanket. I pick at it just a little longer before stopping too.

"And..." He starts again, trying to continue, "Then he saw me, but he was out of bullets. I ran before he could do anything else."

"He tried to shoot you?"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

Lucky bastard! How _awesome_ would it be to live through that and get to tell _everyone_? ... Well, I guess it would only be cool if the guy who did the murdering got caught and locked up for life. Then again, witness protection would do a great job of getting me away from Tala. Hm.

"So now he's trying to kill me. But I don't know why."

"... Because you can tell the cops?"

"I already did."

"Revenge?"

"For walking home? Fuck, Ian, he can just flee the city. He doesn't _have_ to kill me." He snaps his head toward me, shooting me a quizzical glare. He has a point there. He releases an exhausted sigh and finally kicks his legs out, resting his feet on the corner of the coffee table. I pull the blanket out of the way and move a little closer.

"Maybe... You should just stay with me, then."

He looks over at me, the emotion fading from his face before suddenly replacing itself with confusion.

"On the couch?"

I smile. "Yeah. Like, right here. And he won't bug you."

"On the couch."

"Yes."

"You want me to say on this couch, with you, and magically he'll go away."

"That's the idea."

His eyes consider me a moment longer before he does something I don't expect. Rather than calling me an idiot, or leaving, he starts to laugh. It's slow at first, but gradually picks up, and before I can figure out what I said that was so hysterical, he falls against my shoulder and pushes his face into my upper arm.

"You're an idiot," he chuckles, sobering up. Wow, he's warm. It wasn't the laptop, then; he's just a very warm person.

"I know," I mutter, trying to sound apologetic. Whether it worked or not, I have no idea. I'm too distracted with his warmth, and the pressure against my arm, and the way he smells.

"Thanks for earlier," He whispers, moving just close enough for his hip to bump mine. My cheeks warm a bit, but not enough for me to be concerned.

"What?"

"When you told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. Thanks."

I glance down at him. "Any time?"

His eyes fall closed and that smile - the one that I really like - pulls back onto his face. "Good answer."

-x-x-x-

"Wow, Ian. Player much?" Bryan mutters. My eyes open slowly and I tip my head back, peering up at him from where he stands behind the couch. We must have fallen asleep, because I'm slouching terribly and Kevin is curled up against me.

"Wha?" I mumble, looking around sleepily before I begin to acknowledge the position I'm in. Oh. Whoops.

"Either you're really attractive to Asian kids, or something is terribly wrong."

I groan, stretching a bit. "Piss off."

Bryan rolls his eyes and tosses his hands up, as if to say 'I tried'. He starts to walk away, but not before he speaks.

"Fine. But if you two ever decide to detach from one another," he drones, just in time for Kevin to open his eyes and sit up stiffly, "then you might want to look out the window."

I turn my head and look at him over the back of the couch. "What's out the window?"

He's in the kitchen and out of earshot, but it doesn't stop me from calling his name. I hate it when he does that. Kevin sits up fully now and rubs his eyes, mumbling some kind of apology. The way he's pushing the backs of his hands against his eyes like that is... hell, _really_ adorable. Why does he insist on doing this to me?

"What time is it?" He asks groggily. I shake my head.

"No idea. Maybe you should get a watch."

"Maybe you should not be a dick," He mutters, punching my arm playfully. A small smile forms on his face, but is interrupted by Bryan calling from the kitchen.

"_Win_dow, Ian!"

I growl something about him being an asshole and get up. Kevin follows closely, which is odd. He seemed so... Hm. I'll asked.

"What do you call someone who's a total loner?"

He looks up at me curiously as we move across the room toward the bay window.

"I don't know... Ruggedly individualistic?"

That's the ticket, Kevin. You vocab freak, you.

"Yeah, thanks."

Okay, so he was really 'ruggedly individualistic' when he got here, and now he's starting to act more like a little kid. I wonder why.

"... Wait, why are you asking?" He stops, about five feet from the window, but I continue forward. Peering down through the glass, I can see on the street - we're three floors up, by the way - someone looking right back up at me. I blink.

"Are you implying something?" He pushes, narrowing his eyes. I don't look away from the guy looking back at me. Rather, I just flop my hand around in an attempt at waving Kevin forward.

"Is that um. Is that that Eli guy?"

He blinks, the irritation fading suddenly from his face. He steps forward and looks down at where I'm pointing before all the color seems to drain from his face and, respectively, his hair. It is pretty colorful, after all.

"Holyshit," He whispers. The guy down on the street seems startled, suddenly, before he smiles and lifts up a hand. He waves, very slowly, and then drags an extended index finger across his throat.

Kevin steps to the side and spins around, pushing his back up against the wall beside the window, out of sight.

"Holyshit," He gasps again, eyes wide. I make haste in drawing the drapes closed, but once they are, I just stand there clutching them. He keeps repeating it, slowly melting down to the floor. There's a long silence between us, interrupted only by the gentle sigh of the heating duct beside him. I slowly let go of the curtains and run a hand through my hair.

"Well... I hope Spencer and Tala chose good locks."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We look, now, at the natural habitat of the illusive yet infamous Cliff Hanger. Notice how it clings--or _hangs_, if you will--to the tail end of a significant moment in the plotline, providing just enough information to drive the reader insane—

Um, so, and then some stuff happened, sorry. Don't mind my stupid comments at the ends of chapters, they never matter.

Please Review!


	6. Tumble Dryer

Anyway. This story might finally start looking like an Ian/Kevin fic. Hmm.

… shuddup, I was getting there eventually. ; ;

Enjoy!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Stop panicking. You're really starting to piss me off."

"I pissed you off before."

"More so now."

"You're just _trying_ to be a dick, aren't you?" Kevin growls, shooting a glare in the general direction of Tala. I say general, because he won't sit still. He's telling Kevin to calm down as he paces back and forth nervously.

"Well you're putting us all in danger, I have the right."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself. He won't hurt any of you, he just wants to hurt _me_."

Tala stops and gives him a warning look. "Don't start that crap with me, Kevin."

"Sorry _mom_, I forgot my manners."

This is possibly the best exchange between two people I have ever witnessed. They've been at it for thirty minutes now as Bryan installs the locks. How he got roped into it I don't know, but if you need someone to work with locks, Bryan is your guy. He can get into anything, anywhere, any time. I hate him for it.

"I'm warning you-"

"You're _contradicting_ yourself. Don't tell me to remain calm while you freak out."

"Oh, like you're a saint?"

"Compared to who, you? Yes."

They look like they're about to lunge at each other. Despite this, I can feel some sort of respect radiating between them, and my mood sinks a bit. When Tala gets to this stage with someone, it won't be long until they're best pals. It's like friend initiation, or something. And I certainly _don't_ want Kevin to like Tala. Kevin is _mine_, thank you.

... Okay, I worded that awkwardly. Let me try again...

"You should be _thanking_ me! I let you stay here, didn't I? You'd be _dead_ without me."

"Spencer let me stay here, you idiot. You were ready to throw me back into the street."

"I'm ready now!"

Bryan swears, suddenly, and yanks the screwdriver back out of the door. "This thing sucks," He growls in Russian, adjusting his position to keep working at it. We all look over at him, thankful for the distraction. Tala stops pacing and sighs, prompting Kevin to relax as well.

"Okay. So." The redhead sighs, running a hand across his eyes. Kevin glares at the coffee table, allowing him to continue.

"... Did he really do that 'my finger is a knife' thing across his neck?"

Houston, we have an interested Tala. I smile despite myself and look over at Kevin, sitting beside me on the couch. He's quiet for a minute before a weak smile pushes his lips upward.

"Yeah."

"That's so... stupid."

"Yeah."

"... Well. Anyway."

Tala sits down on the arm of the chair. Shit, initiation is almost over. I need to do something.

"I think we should go on vacation or something." I announce, kicking my feet up like it's a perfectly normal suggestion. They both turn to look at me.

I'd like to think that Tala is considering this. He's refused the suggestion of having a cop nearby, simply because he _hates_ cops. Even if they're trying to help. And it's obvious that Kevin wants to get the hell out of here. But they both inevitably come to the same decision.

"No."

My eyebrows sink about an inch downward over my eyes, and I wriggle my nose irritably. Damnit.

"I need to face this," Kevin sighs. "It's the only way I can go back to my team without feeling afraid."

Tala looks at him, considering what he said, before he nods. "Good. Because I didn't buy those locks for the hell of it."

"_I_ bought those locks," Spencer growls from behind the couch. He's passing through into the kitchen, and we ignore him.

"Well," I try, "you can't just stay up here for the rest of your life. Maybe we can meet him somewhere? And have one big-"

"If you say 'shootout', I will beat your ass to the ground," Tala snaps. I turn to face him with a glare.

"-_Hug fest_." I conclude bitterly. Kevin chuckles, and Tala and I stop there. That laugh is like Advil to a headache, I swear.

"So what do I do?" Kevin sighs. Neither of us speak for a good while. Then, Tala shrugs and nudges him with his elbow.

"_You_ don't do anything. _We_ will do something."

And there you have it, ladies and gentleman; I have just lost another friend to the narcissistic wrath of Tala Ivanov. The prick.

-x-x-x-

"I saw we get Leprechaun 5. _There's_ a classic."

Tala turns sharply to glare at me, tripping suddenly over unwanted memories.

"No. _Never_ again."

"You've seen it _before_?" Kevin laughs, sliding down a bit and snuggling into the couch. The television is casting a red glow across his face, and I feel like trying to rub it off.

Spencer laughs. "It was Bryan's fault, really. He rented it."

"_I_ liked it," he pipes up in some sort of defense. Spencer rolls his eyes.

"You were drunk."

"And you kept laughing," I add, leaning a fraction of an inch so that my shoulder is touching Kevin's. He's just as warm as the last time I touched him. I love it. He, apparently, is too distracted with this information to notice my shoulder against his. Or he doesn't mind. Either way, he just laughs more.

"I commend you for your drunken endeavors, Bryan," he chuckles. Tala rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, looking back at the OnDemand screen. In his fruitless search for something to watch, he comes across the category for World War II movies, and he sits upright. With the exception of Kevin, we all groan.

"No, Tala, no more of this crap. _Please,_" Spencer pleads, sitting in his armchair with a disgruntled look on his face. Tala ignores him.

"How about 'Saving Private-'"

"How about I _kill_ you, Tala," Spencer growls. He sits upright a bit, but Tala just smiles and coasts through more movies. I can feel an argument coming on, and just as I'm preparing to sit back and enjoy myself, Kevin points at one of the options on the list.

"'Enemy At The Gate' is good."

We all stop and turn our attention to him. Even Bryan, who up until this point had been more interested in his cuticles, turns around. There's pause before Spencer's face relaxes and an amused smile spreads across it.

"You've seen it?"

"It's the only war movie I really like."

I raise an eyebrow. That is possibly the only dramatized war movie I can tolerate, simply because it's based on the infamous Russian sniper, Vassili Zeitsev. He's the only hero we all share. And hell, what I wouldn't give for that marksmanship. I look at Kevin with absolute, undying love. My god, I want to hug him. _So_. _Badly._

"Well, I guess we can't refute that."

"I concur."

"Yhep."

The movie is selected, and eventually, it begins. But even five minutes into the opening scene, my eyes are still on Kevin. My stomach feels like one of those tumble dryers with the window door; I can feel all the socks and shirts flying around, churning and twisting and flopping. And I can feel the coins that someone forgot to take out of their pockets; they're doing more damage than the clothing. So much damage, in fact, that I have to stand and leave.

The kitchen is dark, and I lean against the counter awkwardly. It smells like Lysol in here, and it reminds me of that one hallway in the abbey; the one that we had to walk down to get to the bathrooms. I remember writing my name on the wall, right below Tala's. That was back when I really looked up to him.

Someone left the sink on, just enough for a constant drip to fall from the faucet head. I'm looking over at it, wondering if I should turn it off, when I feel warm fingertips on my arm. My head snaps around, suddenly, and my eyes come almost directly before purple ones.

"Ian, are you okay?"

They're glowing again, just softly. I feel my cheeks warm considerably, but convince myself that he can't see them in the darkness of the kitchen. The light from the other room makes a halo around the back of his head, and I want to run my fingers through his hair and touch it.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine."

He moves a little closer, looking down. Maybe he can't see the embarassment in my eyes, but his are betraying him with that glowing thing they're doing. And I can see that he's nervous.

"... Are you?" I push, feeling the warmth around him. The dryer in my stomach is going into overhaul, now. I wonder if it'll catch fire, or something... If it does, will I like... burp?

"Well... I don't know. I don't really wanna watch it without you."

I feel the fire starting. Don't burp, you idiot. _Don't_ burp.

"W-without me? Like... you mean-"

Kevin's lips press against mine, shutting me up. His eyes are closed, sealing away any emotion and keeping it from betraying him again. But mine are wide. The drying explodes, sending scraps of shredded cotton and wool everywhere. But I don't burp. I just stand there, like an idiot, and think about the feeling of his warm lips against mine.

Thank you, Vassili Zeitsev. Thank you for encouraging this beautiful stranger to kiss me.

He leans away, very slowly. When his eyes start to gradually open, they find mine looking right back. I don't need to see to know that we're both blushing madly.

"Sorry." He whispers, but he doesn't move away. I don't say anything, just dip my head down and let my lips brush his again.

"No offense taken." I mutter, kissing him back. This time, our lips part a little bit, but not enough to satisfy me. It doesn't last as long as the first, either. But my heart is in my throat, and my mind is somewhere out by Pluto, and my fingers are looping between his. So I don't care.

When we part again, he's smiling. "I thought I was taking a total stab in the dark," he mutters. I shake my head.

"Hardly. I thought I was painfully transparent, actually."

"... Sorry. I guess I've been too distracted to really pick up on it. But..."

His eyes drop again, but only for a second. He moves a little closer, until our chests are only a few inches apart. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around him. If I do, I'll never be able to let go.

"Thanks for giving me a concussion, Ian."

I laugh, awkwardly, and from the other room, one of those bastards shushes me. Kevin chuckles very quietly, and I suddenly lose the urge to shush them back. See? Advil to a headache, just like I said.

"I'd say anytime, but maybe not." I reply stupidly. I can't really think straight. "Wanna um... do... something?"

He smiles a bit warmer and finally takes my hands in his. "We could go surf the internet on my laptop."

I smile right back.

"Sounds awesome."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I know, right? Who _ever_ expected Ian to get any action? I was like "wait, what?" True story.

Please Review!


	7. Let's Go To The Mall

And updaaate. I really like this chapter, specifically because **something happens**. I know we all like it when things happen in stories. So enjoy!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

That _prick_. That self-absorbed, narcissistic, constipated, egg-sucking prick! My back looks like the place where bruises come to _die, _and Kevin just saw all of it.

Now, before you go and assume that we're really getting it on, stop. I'm not that lucky and Kevin's not that easy. I was just trying to take off that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, because he was teasing me for it and blah blah blah. But now I regret it, because he's giving me the hardest look I've ever seen someone his size deliver. And I'm not that much bigger than him.

"Ian, what happened?" He asks, his voice concerned and worried. Not as much as I should hope it to be some day, but enough for me to melt a little inside.

"I got into a fight with Tala, that's all," I say. My tone suggests that it's not that big of a deal, and it's not; Tala and I get into fights all the time. But Kevin isn't convinced.

"Well does he at least have a matching set?"

A half-smile flickers onto my face thoughtlessly before vanishing. He narrows his eyes at the sight of it and leans forward, showing how serious he is about wanting me to answer.

"No. Well, not an exact match, at least. But I'm not some victim." I cross my arms over my chest and look at him through one full, and one partially squinting eye. He considers this for a minute before nodding - very, _very_ slowly - and drops his hands. From where we're both sitting on the bed, he's cross-legged facing me and I have my feet drawn up underneath me. He leans in a little, sending his hands outward until they find mine. It's still weird, holding hands with him, but somehow that's exciting.

"Can I see them?" He asks, his voice hardly a whisper. I feel the tips of my ears warm at the request, but something about the way he's looking at me is keeping me from denying him.

"Um... Well, I-"

He's up and settling down behind me before I can stop him. Actually, he's more to my left, but you know. He's sitting so damn close to me. It's pretty hot, regardless of how pushy he's being... Actually, that's hot too. Hm.

His hands lift up my shirt timidly, and I look over just in time to see his fingers curling around the hem. He leans in a bit more, studying the bruises carefully before he unhooks one hand from my shirt and runs his fingers over it. The touch is so damn light that I shudder and let out a snort of laughter, twisting away.

Shut up, I'm ticklish.

He lets go of the shirt and looks up at me sadly, chewing on his lower lip. There's a pause where I rub my back where he touched me, just enough to still preserve the feeling. Before I'm ready for it, he leans forward and shifts onto his knees before me. His hands find my shoulders and he leans on them gently, dips his head in, and kisses my cheek very carefully.

I'm getting kinda tired of telling you that I keep blushing, because honestly, every time he touches me I feel my face heat up. But I'll tell you right now, as my eyes close and he plants little kisses up my temple, that I am - without at doubt - the most brilliant shade of red I have ever been. Finally, he kisses my bruised eye with the most gentle little peck, before he falls back on the bed and looks at me.

We're silent. After a moment, I open my eyes, and see that he's blushing too. I guess he did that on impulse; he seems the type to do a lot of things without thinking about it, which only makes me love him more. I am, after all, impulsive and brash.

"We should go out tomorrow," he mutters suddenly. He looks toward the window beside the bed, trying to recover from what he had just done. Every spot where he kissed me is on fire, so it's not like I'm about to forget, but I appreciate what he's going through.

"Where?" My eyes search his face for some sort of idea, but he just looks toward the outside world with longing.

"I don't know. The mall or something. I just need to get out of here."

I nod, and, for lack of a better thing to say, simple reply, "Okay."

-x-x-x-

As it turns out, the mall was a pretty good idea. Spencer was happy to escort us, and for whatever god forsaken reason, Bryan came without a word as to why. He just followed us to the car and climbed into the passenger seat as if we had begged him to come along. Although, Spencer didn't seem disturbed by it, so maybe he knows something I don't.

Kevin was really jumpy at first. He kept looking all around us in our building's parking garage, and he sank as far down in his seat as he could without Spencer noticing. But now that we're here, surrounded by so many people, he seems a lot more comfortable. Except, he is staying extremely close to me. But I don't mind.

I look over at him, noting how carefully he's sipping his soda. The dark bubbly liquid rises up the straw quickly with each sip, but he's not making any noise with it, and his eyes are studying the faces of the people around us. I lift a French fry to my mouth thoughtlessly and smile a bit as I chew.

"You're being a creeper again." He mutters between periodic sips. For a minute I just nod before realizing that I am, in fact, being a creeper. So I look away and refocus my attention on my food.

"Yeah, sorry. So... what do you wanna do?"

His head shakes back and forth thoughtfully. "You have a PSP, don't you? Wanna go to that Gamestop we passed earlier?"

I love him, I love him, I love him. I had fought the urge to ask if we could stop in there, because he doesn't seem like the type to really play a lot of video games.

"Yeah, that sounds good," I say, my tone successfully detached. I'm not sure I want him to know how excited his suggestion made me.

He stands from the bench and I follow suit. He's still sipping at that soda, and I wonder how much more could possibly be in that cup. Unless he's taking really small sips, it should be gone by now.

Spencer and Bryan both have their phones on them. They both insisted we call them if we need anything, which was weird to hear from Bryan. Either way, Kevin looked relieved when Spencer told us this, so I didn't say anything. Retracing our steps, we start toward a large flight of stairs that we had come down earlier. As we pass a trashcan, Kevin tosses the cup and offers me a small smile. He's still nervous. Hoping to crush the anxiety for him, I purposefully move closer to him as we start up the steps.

"So, do you play any video games?" I ask, trying to sound uninterested. You know, for the sake of conversation and all that. He watches the steps carefully and matches my pace stride for stride. Damn, this is a tall staircase.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't really have the opportunity to play them when I'm with my team, so I'm out of practice."

"What, your captain doesn't like fun?" I ask playfully. Kevin looks over at me, a smile pushing onto his face. We cross the landing that marks the halfway point for the stairs and start up the next half.

"He's not that bad, Ian. Just old-fashion."

"Don't you have to be old to be old-fashion?" I push, watching the smile grow on his face. I can tell he doesn't get to rant about his team that often.

"It's not worth trying to figure out. Believe me, I've tried."

There are a crap-ton of people around us. They're all rushing up and down, sidestepping each other to move faster. Like they have somewhere to be in a _mall_. Just as we reach the top, a particularly dense group of people suddenly clog the stairs, and we both have to stop for a minute. I crane my neck to see, but Kevin doesn't bother. I guess being that small has doomed him to a fate of not-being-able-to-see-ever, so he's used to it. Instead, he looks toward me and offers me a smile as if to say "it's okay, I'm not in a rush".

And that's when it happens. Just as my eyes really connect with his, and I'm smiling back, a pair of large pale hands shoot out from the mass of people in front of us and shove into Kevin's chest. His eyes widen for a brief second, looking around toward the source of the shove, before his equilibrium is lost.

I'm not sure what's going on. Suddenly, Kevin isn't standing beside me. Where the hell is he? A woman's scream snaps me back to reality and I turn, searching for him desperately with widening eyes. I shift on the step, my shoes sliding a little in my haste. Below me, on the landing, Kevin comes to a sudden stop, and falls very still. The thick crowd around me starts to dart in every direction like a disturbed swarm of bees, but I can't hear them. I spot red on the steps near Kevin, and in a heart beat I'm leaping down toward him.

I can't hear. I can't hear, or smell, or see anything but Kevin and the small bits of red on the steps. My hands pull at his shoulders, turning him around onto his back so that he's facing me. His eyes are closed tight in pain, but after the fifth or sixth time of me saying his name - yelling it, I guess - they crack open. He clutches his arm to his chest and rolls into me a little. He's not making any noise. I lift my hand up to support his head and feel the warm stickiness seep through my fingers.

His head injury opened back up. Shit. Shit. Shitshit_shit_. A man squats down beside me and tries to help, but I won't let go of Kevin. Get help, I tell him, find help. Help him, please help. But even as he tries to do just that, I can't let go. I _won't_ let go. More and more people gather around trying to help, but I cling to him like lifeline, thinking that if I release him from this embrace, he'll just get hurt again.

"Ian..." He whispers. Somehow, over all the noise and voices and cluttering, he's the only thing I hear.

"It's okay, Ian."

I shake my head and look down at him. He looks so out of it, gradually appearing sleepier and sleepier.

"No, it's not," I say, shaking my head harder and feeling tears swell up in my eyes. "It's not okay, Kevin."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

D: I don't think Ian is okay either.

Please Review!


	8. It's Personal

EXCUSE ME GOOD MA'AM OR SIR, BUT I BELIEVE I LEFT PREMATURELY.

I'm sorry I quit before I finished my stories. It was absolutely nowhere near my mind when I said goodbye, and then a week later I realized what a dick move it was. So here's the rest of Headshot for you to read whenever you want, if you're still interested. The only other story I will be finishing, unfortunately, is Relapse. Beyond that, **Suicidal Grasshopper **has opted to complete Captive, but I think she's just doing it for her own gain. So bug her if you want to see if that'll be finished because I don't know.

ANYWAY. Back from the grave for a short time to complete these two fics, then dead again. I will be posting ALL of Relapse once it is COMPLETE. I don't see the point in doing the chapter-by-chapter method.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Looking back at it now, I can't say I blame the guy for pulling me away from Kevin like that. I mean, he didn't have to be that damn _rough_, but it was for the best. At least someone was willing to sacrifice their sweater in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The fleeting memory of that blood-soaked jacket is stuck to the back of my eyelids like a cheap propaganda poster, insisting I join the cause to protect him with my life.

And god damnit, I'm more that willing. But no matter how many times I try to rub it from my eyes, it won't leave. If they weren't sore enough from crying, and if my bruised eye wasn't aching before, they sure as hell are now. I don't think sleeping would make me uncaring or selfish, but it's probably the only way to get this ache to leave. I...

Am I even making sense? Are my sentences fitting together into a flowing paragraph, that makes sense to someone when they read it? I feel like I'm jumping all over the place. I've been like this since we got ot this damn hospital, since the nurse told us to wait here. He shouldn't _be_ in a hospital right now. We should have gotten to go to that store unharmed. I wanted to show him all my favorite games, and how to do a triple-shot sniper kill with only two rounds on those shooter games I play. How is it fair that this happened do him?

Tala has been glaring at the floor for the last hour and a half. Out of the four we've been here, I only had the chance to tell him what really happen after everything had settled down, and since then he can't stop frowning. His initial reaction was disbelief, of course; _mine_ had been, and I was freakin' there. Someone _shoved_ him?, he had asked. You saw the hands?

He drilled me for about twenty minutes - which, when you think about it, is a long time to repeat the same story again and again - before he finally stopped talking all together. I know that he's still in the early stages of caring about Kevin, but I wonder if this'll help speed it along. His face went from denial to panic to worry to anger in the span of about the first fifteen minutes. Being a ginger, you wouldn't think that's impressive, but Tala is startlingly good at _not_ showing emotion. I guess that's how I realized how shitty this situation really is.

"Did he say anything to you?" He asks, looking over at me without dropping the glare. I shift in the chair and sigh.

"He told me it was okay."

"Kevin did?"

"Yeah."

Tala nods and looks back at the floor, remaining quiet. For whatever reason, I can't figure out what's going through his head; normally I'm very good at doing so. Then, after a pause, his eyes lift up and squint into the pale light that's filtering down from above us.

"Do you remember that night in the abbey, when there was that fire?"

I look at him blankly for a minute before the memory returns to my mind. It's hardly there, like whisps of smoke, but the longer I mull over it the clearer it becomes.

"What about it?"

"Spencer said something that night. Something about looking out for each other."

I'm not making the same connection he is, but I'm trying. I nod, and after another long moment, he continues.

"He said that for all the shit we have to go through, the only constant is each other." I can tell he's trying to word this wisely, and for once in my short, big-nosed life, I let him. "So we have to look out for one another, even if we piss each other off."

To my surprise, I find myself nodding. Wait, isn't this hypocrisy? Didn't he just beat me up the other night? He continues without looking at me.

"Ever since that Zeitzev comment, it's obvious that Kevin fits in with us. As weird as he is."

"Hey,-" I start defensively, but he continues undeterred.

"So this whole clusterfuck of a problem is now personal." He glances toward me, noting my irritation. "Try to bear with me Ian, I don't like opening up to people."

He has a point there. I sit back and take my turn glaring at the floor now. We must look pretty odd to anyone passing by, sitting beside one another just glaring at the tiles between our feet. But then, when have either of us given a crap about that?

"... When do you think he'll wake up?" I ask slowly, the glare vanishing to be replaced with a look of fatigued panic. Tala looks up at the ceiling tiles for a change of pace and releases a long, annoying sigh.

"With our luck, right when his team gets here."

... Wait, what?

"Wait, what?" Ah, words. The pinnacle of mankind's contribution to modern society.

"What, did you think Spencer _wouldn't_ call them?"

I'm silent for an awkward moment before my voice starts working again. "But they can't, I mean... They'll make him leave!"

Am I thinking before I speak? Hm. I think not.

"... 'Make' him?"

"I- But-"

"You know it's not up to us, right?" Tala asks now, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I grapple for coherent speech and come up with nothing.

"He's under eighteen and Lee has technical custody of him when they're abroad."

"No, I mean..."

"Are you okay?"

I look away, probably baring the face of one of those white scream masks with the long mouths. Tala looks away with an impatient roll of the eyes.

"Don't freak out _too_ much, Ian," he mutters, sarcasm heavy enough in his words to choke a baby. A freakin' _baby_, people.

"But what if I never see him again? I mean I hardly saw him before now, and we just kissed, and I thought we were going to be able to hang out more, and I-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Youtwo _kissed_?" He sits up suddenly and looks at me, but as I realize what I said, I'm spared by the harmonious angel choir that is Spencer's voice.

"Yin just showed up."

We both turn, equally bewildered over two separate things - me over the sudden, unfair involvement of the White Tigers, and Tala over the news that Kevin and I made out. (I suddenly regret letting that slip, now that I think of it.)

Spencer is standing behind us, tired and bored and irritated with having to have come and find us. I'm on my feet in a heartbeat, heading around Spencer and down the hall. Tala and he chase after me only with odd looks, which is fine with me; either of them would screw this up for me if they tagged along.

-x-x-x-

"No."

"Please, I just-"

"No. It's your fault he's here in the first place."

"But I-... wait, not it's not, you're the one who-"

"_Piss. Off._" Lee grinds out, leaning down and glaring at me. He looks worried and tired like Spencer had earlier, but mostly he just looks pissed off. And don't go blaming me; he looked that way when I found him.

He's gotten taller, which is probably bad. It does, after all, emphasize his daunting I'll-break-your-neck-with-my-toes look. Which isn't fair; why does everyone else grow taller, and I'm stuck at five-foot three? It's taller than Kevin, but still.

I push my heels against the floor and push my chest out a bit, but he can't see my heels and he doesn't notice my chest. He turns away and refocuses his glare in the general direction of the room Kevin is in, no longer concerned with my presence. I'm about to try again, thinking that nothing can stop me from imposing my opinions on the situation, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

When I turn around, I'm met with pink hair, concerned eyes, and an extended index finger pressed against a pair of lips. They're those lips that you see in commercials or pornos, that make you want to eat something really sugary. Distracted by this, I let her pull me away from Lee when he's not looking.

"Don't even bother with him, he's too upset," Mariah mutters, her voice quiet as we duck around a corner. I look at her blankly, expecting more. When she notices this, she straightens her back and heaves a sigh.

"We didn't know where he was, Ian. Did you guys even _think_ to call and tell us that he was with you?"

Ho-ly shit. Suddenly, the memory of Spencer telling me to do that floods my mind, and I feel my face pale and sink a bit downward toward my neck. I forgot to call them. Even once. At all. Mariah doesn't notice the look, and instead turns and glances back around the corner toward a now-pacing Lee.

"He's _really_ pissed at Kevin," she whispers, worry evident in her voice. "I've never seen him so angry before. Not toward Kevin, at least."

I watch her face for a moment while she's looking away and wonder how much prettier it must be without all the sleepless nights she's been having. The shadows beneath each eye are _just_ revealing enough to suggest that she's been pretty worried.

"Do you... know what happened?" I ask, before realizing how stupid it was. She could take that however she wanted; did she know what Kevin witnessed to make him run away? Did she know he had even run off? Was I asking about how he wound up with us? The list goes on and on. She asks.

"You mean how he managed to stay with _you guys_?"

I'm not sure I appreciate that tone, but I'll run with it. Straightening my shirt, I nod and look toward Lee as well. He's still glaring and pacing.

"I was out walking the other night and rounded a corner too fast, and, well... Smack. Next thing I know, Kevin is unconscious and I'm screwed."

Finally, she looks back at me. "Wait, he hit his head _then_?"

I nod without thinking. "Yeah. That's why this time it was so bad."

Mariah's face falls blank, slowly enough for it to look really thoughtful. Damnit, why can't I ever look like that? After a few moments of thought, she readjusts her shirt hem and drops her gaze to the floor.

"Is... Was there... A lot of blood? This second time?"

Her voice is hardly audible over the hum of the hospital around us. Suddenly, the image of that blood-soaked sweater gives me a figurative smack in the face, and I feel a shudder race down my spine.

"... Yeah."

She just nods, remaining silent a moment longer before reluctantly lifting her head and offering me some sort of smile. At least, I think that's what it is.

"I'll make sure you get a chance to see him, okay? But you need to tell me more about what's going on."

Before I can really think about what I'm doing, I feel my head nod up and down. "Yeah. Okay."

But first, I need to figure out what's going on for myself.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

One down.


	9. Hospitals Are Boring

And again…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I slept. Granted, not well, but it was sleep all the same. I wish that someone had woken me up sooner, to tell me that Kevin was conscious, because now I'm waiting around the corner, watching the door. _Lee_, dark ominous captain of the cutthroat White Tigers, went in there about twenty minutes ago. So far I haven't heard any yelling, or smashing around, or cries for help. But I don't like him. Not the way he looks, or the way he sounds, or the way he glares at me. His eyes are so freaking dark, it's like starting into black holes. Who the hell feels comfortable around black holes?

I really want to just barge in. How great would that be, if I just sauntered in acting like I owned the freakin' place? Realistically it would be awkward, but in my head, I only foresee hilarity. Good thing I don't act on every impulse.

The door opens. Lee comes out rubbing his black holes, closing the door behind him with little thought. He stops and stands there a minute before looking up. His head sweeps around. He looks at me blankly for a long minute. Then he gives me some sort of glare, as though he couldn't be bothered with making any other threatening motion, and turns to walk the other way.

Score.

I bolt up from my spot and slide to the door before any of the nurses can realize that I'm replacing Lee.

Ian: 1, hospital staff: 0.

The room is pretty dark, seeing as it's morning and the sun is out. The second the door closes behind me, I'm lost to a labyrinth of hanging curtains, chairs, and the wall. Carefully, with my hands out, I fumble against the curtain and flail at it, hoping to sweep it aside.

"Wrong way, Ian," comes a voice from the opposite direction. I blink, and hold very still for a minute before turning.

"Oh. Hi."

Kevin is looking at me with tired eyes, but I can see that he's expecting something of me. He doesn't look happy, but he doesn't look mad. So, what other human emotions are they? I wasn't really raised in a place that emphasized how complicated humans can be.

"You okay?" I ask stupidly. He looks at me a minute before a small, sad smile spreads across his face.

"You're standing before my hospital bed asking if I'm okay."

... Oh. He's in _that_ mood again.

"Yeah."

The smile weakens just a little bit. Suddenly, I find myself standing directly beside him. Honestly, I expected his head to be wrapped in white bandages, but he doesn't have any.

"Do you have stitches? Because they normally have to put stitches on stuff like that, I mean, there was a lot of blood so you like, split your head open, and all that, and... stitches."

Jesus, man, get a hold of yourself. He looks up at me with a widening, amused smirk.

"Thank you, Ian. You're a wealth of knowledge."

"Shuddup," I say in my defense, falling into a chair beside the bed.

"No, really," he continues, "you're a real fountain of wisdom."

Finally, I laugh. It's breathy and half-assed, but honest. We share a long, oddly comfortable pause before I recognize that I've been lied to all these years. All the television shows and movies and books all make it seem like once you share a First Kiss with someone, things are smooth sailing. They never mention this awkward, awkward, _awkward_ stage where you've kissed, and you both like each other, but you don't know where to go _next_.

"Ian?"

I look up, wishing suddenly that there could be a film crew all around us. At least that way we wouldn't be about to share the awkward conversation that I feel creeping on.

"Yeah?"

"Do you... You know." He drops his eyes to his lap and picks at his cast. Why does he have to pick at everything? It's a bit neurotic. I just look at him, waiting for him to compose himself. He seems closer to doing so then I am, after all.

"Do you want to give this a go?"

... 'This'? My silence pushes him further along in his question.

"You know... us... dating."

I feel myself nod stupidly before something dawns on me.

"What about Lee?"

Kevin's face shifts then, from a cautious question-asking face to an amused look of relief.

"Lee doesn't care as long as we don't get him involved. At all."

I look at him a moment longer, appreciating the way the light falls across his face from where it seeps under the curtains across the room. Then, before I can think about it, my legs straighten and I lift into the dark air between us. I lean in, arching over the bed, and catch his lips against my own.

It's a boring kiss, I guess. Just lips touching lips. But I hold it for an astounding, perfect length of time before parting, and our eyes meet in that cliche way you see people looking at each other in the movies.

"Yes," I say quietly, watching the genuine smile grow on his face.

"Ahem."

The two of us jerk a bit, startled by the third voice. Turning, I blink owlishly through the darkness before my eyes settle on Mariah, closing the door behind her and crossing to a desk.

I look at Kevin. He's smiling. How odd.

The light clicks on and I lose my sight to whiteness for a moment before it dims to a dull golden glow. Mariah is staring at me with her hands on her hips, expecting something.

"Let's be honest," Kevin says from behind me, "this isn't the worst thing you've caught me doing."

-x-x-x-

"Aaand... You're... _Okay_ with this?"

Mariah has taken up residence at the foot of Kevin's bed, sitting crosslegged now and looking relatively relaxed. She shifts her eyes toward me irritably.

"Why would I have a problem with it?"

I glance at Kevin. He looks like he's fighting a smile.

"Well... You know, I was just thinking that... Cause you were raised where you were, and all, you'd have a... um... Kevin, help me out."

"A predisposition to homophobia."

"That's it, right there. That." I point at him proudly and nod as I say it, like a loving parent. I'm perched on the side of the bed beside Kevin with my shoulder up against his. It's taken at least thirty minutes for he and I to fill Mariah in on everything that's happened since I ran into Kevin on the street corner. The range of emotions this female is capable of just through listening is impressive.

"That would be a bit hypocritical, Ian," she sighs, refocusing her eyes at Kevin's blanket-covered toes. She pokes at them and he flinches, pulling them away.

"Stop that," he warms tiredly.

"What do you mean by that?" I push, ignoring the distraction. Mariah sighs.

"Honestly? I'm gay."

...

"Ian."

What.

"Ian, stop looking at me like that. You're being a creeper."

"You're a lesbian?"

"Yes."

"But you and Rei-"

"Were more a of decoy than anything else."

...

"Ian."

"I'm here, I'm listening. I just could have sworn that _anyone_ related to _Lee_ would be... You know..."

"Straight?"

"As an arrow."

She smiles at this, and looks at Kevin, who's chuckling. "Arrows wobble everywhere when they fly, Ian," he says. Mariah giggles a bit.

"But... Wait, okay, hold on. So everyone _but_ Lee is gay?"

They exchange a thoughtful look, as if they were actually considering this for the first time. "Gary's straight," Mariah offers. I sigh.

"He's married," Kevin adds, nudging me. I don't know what that look means, but if he's giving it to me after a comment like _that_, it must be important.

"Ian, don't worry about it. Kevin is, at best, bi."

"That doesn't help," I say flatly before I can even let the information sink in. Kevin rolls his eyes.

"_Okay_, moving on. Let's not scare him off."

Mariah rolls her eyes and smiles, kicking her legs over the side of the bed. "Sure, whatever. I'm going to go get a soda."

"Can you-" Kevin starts, but Mariah is already at the door.

"No, you can't eat anything yet. Ian, don't let him eat anything."

I nod, but she doesn't see it; she's gone. Beside me, Kevin looks toward the window tiredly and pouts a bit. "I'm starving."

A smile pulls onto my face before I can stop it. "Patience is a virtue."

He laughs. "See? Fountain of wisdom."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Two down.


	10. Intruder Alert

Yet another…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The feeling of victory rides with me all the way home from the hospital, and never once does my hand let go of Kevin's. With Mariah's help and Kevin's awe-inspiring powers of persuasion, Lee said he could keep staying with us. Maybe not indefinitely, but for the time being. And even though I did nothing to contribute to this turn of events, I feel like it was all because of me that it worked out this way.

Tala has insisted that we take the elevator, inspired by the doctor's advice that Kevin rest. It's just the three of us, since Bryan and Spencer booked it to go food shopping. Apparently, no one thought to do it while Kevin was in the hospital, and we were running low to begin with. Despite the hunger mounting in my gut, I refuse to let it get me down. I mean, he's _here_. He's okay, and still holding my hand, and whenever I look at him he smiles. I think Tala is going to be sick.

With a reassuring '_ding_', the elevator doors slide open and Tala makes a point of shoving us out. "Okay, now you," he says, placing a hand on Kevin's shoulder in a nonchalant way, "get to take a nap."

"Whee," Kevin mutters, glancing ahead down the hallway. He blinks in surprise at something he sees, but before I can look Tala claps a hand on my shoulder with much less care.

"And you get to do all the goddamn dishes you cheated your way out of the other day-"

"Oh my god."

We both stop, because Kevin has stopped. He's staring ahead, wide eyed, and after we both look at him, we turn our eyes in the same direction.

The door to the flat is off it's hinges, lying in the middle of the hallway. There are a few muddy bootprints as if someone had to try a few times to kick it down. The lock, that Bryan had spent all that time installing, has been strung up in the empty doorway by what looks like some sort of tiny noose (for all those mice-lynching occasions, obviously,) and there's a note taped to it.

Tala is the first to react. He pushes Kevin and I behind him and shushes us before starting slowly toward the door. The silence screeches in my ears as I take it upon myself to pull Kevin farther from the door, around me - two human shields are better than one, after all. He doesn't protest, and instead looks over his shoulder out of growing paranoia.

Tala has already slid around the corner and gone to check out the apartment. We stay there for a few long, terrifying minutes, waiting. Kevin's hands are clasping my right one, and he's slowly but surely pressing into my chest. I wrap my free arm over his shoulders and try to hug him, but I'm not sure it's making a difference.

"Ian," Tala says from the doorway. His voice is almost stoic, but I can hear the concern. Kevin reacts faster than me and bolts toward the door, tugging me after him. We stop, the lock dangling in the middle of us all. Our eyes are glued to the thing, bent in a sort of smooshed way. It's quite possible that Kevin is breaking my hand with that grip of his.

"What does it say?" he whispers, mostly to Tala, because the note is facing him. I can see just a little of it, but not much.

Tala is very quiet. His face is set on some indistinguishable emotion, but I think it's something close to... tired anger? Maybe?

His eyes drop down to look at Kevin, who leans toward me uneasily. "What?" he asks again, his shoulders slowly rising up as his head sinks down a bit. Tala releases a long, silent breath.

"He's challenged you to a street match. And if you don't accept, he'll keep trying until he kills you."

Beside me, Kevin makes no movement for a minute. Then, slowly, his face sets, and his eyes drop. He studies the door at his feet, noting the size of the bootprints. Whoever this asshole is, he's way, _way_ bigger than Kevin. And if he's the local champion - he was, wasn't it? Or... is? - than Kevin is in trouble.

And yet, when he lifts his eyes, they're full of determination.

Okay, so I know he's pissed off, and I know this is the wrong situation to be thinking it, but my god he's so cute with that look on his face. Like... crap. I fight the urge to kiss him at the same time that Tala runs a hand through his hair, accepting the look as if Kevin had said "you're on". Only to Eli. Or... Wait, now I'm all confused.

Oh well. We stand around the door for a while longer before the elevator dings open. In what feels like seconds, Spencer and Bryan are upon us, groceries in hand. They herd us inside, Spencer focusing on balancing the three bags he's holding while Bryan swears and tugs the lock down. _Goddamnit, I just put this fucking thing in, I can't fucking believe it, fuckfuckity fuck fuck_, and so on. Kevin is the only one who can't speak Russian, so he has no idea what he's saying, and keeps asking me. If I weren't so dazed, I would laugh.

-x-x-x-

I wake up to Kevin kicking me in his sleep. He mutters something incoherent and rolls away before sighing, and as if he changed his mind, he rolls back. I catch him just in time to not be hit by his arm, that shoots up and lands on me awkwardly the second I let go of it. It's weird: the last time we slept in the same bed - _my_ bed, if you will recall - he was totally calm and still and, mostly, warm. Like, super-cuddly warm. So why the hell is he acting like this now?

"Kevin," I mutter, coming out of sleep. He says something again and whines a bit, tugging at my grip on his wrist before a whimper escapes his throat. He tries to roll away, and in the process delivers a swift and very powerful kick to my stomach.

, _I can't breathe!_ I lie there a minute, gasping with my hands around my stomach, as Kevin rolls to the other side of the bed and cocoons himself in the blankets. Wheezing, I slowly but surely recover from the blow and sit up. I cough once and bend over the edge of the bed, turning on the light.

"Kevin," I try again, turning back around and moving toward him. He's completely buried in the blankets, and even though the sound of my voice makes him kick a bit, I dive onto him and hold him still so that he can't hit me again. After a minute, he wakes with a strangled cry and bolts upright in my arms. The blankets fall from his shoulders and his hands shoot out, grabbing onto my shirt like a lifeline.

For a few long moments, he just sits there, panting. Gradually, as he comes to realize that his nightmare was just that - a nightmare - he relaxes and looks toward me slowly.

"Ian?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the kick."

He returns my look blankly for a moment before looking down at his cast. "Sorry."

I shrug, slowly loosening my arms from where they rest around his waist. He tilts his head to the side and leans against me tiredly.

"I don't think I can do this."

"The challenge match?"

"The _street_ match. He's obviously not afraid to hurt me, Ian, and a match without rules is going to be the death of me."

I hug him a bit tighter, feeling the familiar distant ache of my own still-healing bruises. "Yeah, well, it's not like you'll be alone. Spencer and Tala and Bryan and I will all be there to kick his ass if he even _tries_ to hurt you."

He sighs again, for lack of a better thing to do. "Ian?"

"Yeah?"

"... Nevermind."

I try to say something but stop, and eventually release a sigh of my own.

"Okay."

-x-x-x-

"This is entirely implausible. I can't even begin to comprehend the injustice that I've just woken up to. I mean, fuck."

I look over at Kevin with a goofy smile on my face. Since he had had such a hard time sleeping last night, I didn't bother waking him up when I got out of bed, so he's the last into the living room.

"Oh, stuff it," Mariah replies, reclining back on the couch from where she had been craning to see him. He storms forward onto the carpet and turns to look at her. His face is set on that "consideration" stage, where he's trying to figure out exactly what's going on and word it cleverly in his own head. (Or at least, that's how he explained to me. Apparently it's a habit of his.)

"Why are you _here_?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose no one knows. It could have been evolution, maybe, or maybe 'blank' religion is right after all. Or I suppose-"

"No. None of that existentialistic crap, Mariah. Cut the pejorative attitude and tell me why you're here, in this flat."

She just smiles at him. "Nervous for your big day?"

Kevin's face drops the annoyance that had been accumulating there. He's surprised that she knows about it, and no words are forming on the tip of his tongue. I look back around to Mariah as Kevin slowly drops his gaze and falls onto the couch beside me.

"I've been here for thirty minutes, Kevin. That's enough time for me to get filled in."

She crosses one leg over the other and starts to kick her foot. What a strange nervous habit.

"That, and Tala called me," she continued. Kevin's head snaps up to look at the offending red head, eyes full of hurt and betrayal. Tala lowers the paper and blinks, surprised by Kevin's surprise... and I'm surprised, but Mariah's not really surprised, and my surprise is surprised by how surprised I am with all these surprising surprises.

Surprise is a weird word.

"Don't look at me, kid," Tala sighs, breaking me back into the real world. Kevin slumps bitterly. Odd, this is possibly the closest to angry I've seen him since the day I first brought him back here. I guess he really _is_scared.

Mariah gets up and moves passed me in order to plunk back down on the other side of Kevin. He ignores her for a minute before giving up and resting his head on her shoulder.

"Does Lee know?"

Mariah looks up at the clock. It must be weird for her to be here, if she never has before. I guess it must have taken some balls to come over here on her own. Either way, she has her legs crossed and is kicking her foot again. Her flat - is that what those shoes are called? Flats? - is flopping up and down, clapping quietly against her heel as it clings to her toes for dear life.

"Yeah. But he didn't show much interest in coming."

Kevin pulls a face, his nose wrinkling in an adorable way. I wish he were resting on _my_ shoulder...

"He's a dick."

"Kevin," Mariah starts in a warning tone, but she doesn't push it. I can tell she's thinking the exact same thing. A long silence stretches out before Kevin lifts off of her and looks down at where my hand is on my lap. After a little thought, he reaches over with his casted arm and does his best to take hold of my hand with his fingers. I squeeze back.

"How's Mathilda?"

Mariah releases a sort of 'oh yeah, bring _that_ up' laugh, and shakes her head. She's really pretty.

"She's fine," she mutters after some pause. "Parents are being evil about it, though."

Kevin nods mutely. "And your parents?"

I realize, immediately, what he's getting at. First of all, it's obvious to everyone and their mother that he's trying to change the subject. And secondly, he's thinking about _us_, and how his parents might react. Mariah is quiet for a minute before looking down at Kevin, her fingers tugging at his pantleg thoughtlessly.

"Only Lee knows right now, technically."

Kevin is staring at the coffee table. I give his hand a little squeeze, noting the dull glaze in his eyes.

There's an irrational part of the brain which I truly believe everyone has, that insists that we have to help relieve the pain of people we care about. That part of my brain, at the moment, has picked up a drum, hiered a marching band, and is smashing around trying to get my attention. I mean... just _look_ at him. He's so sad, and conflicted, and worried, and-

"Ian, stop staring at me."

Adorable. How is it that in times of despair, when he's pissed or sad or distraught, I only manage to think about how attractive I think he is? I mean, I know I was raised in the abbey, but I'm not _heartless_. I just get distracted by all the emotion on his face, and I end up thinking about how nice he looks.

"Ian, cut it out. You're aggravating me."

"You were aggravated when you woke up this morning."

He turns toward me fully. "I will beat your ass worse than Tala, Ian."

Ooh, low blow. Low, low blow. I must be giving him a stubborn look, because he smiles despite himself and pulls his hand out of mine in order to punch at me. The swing is so half-assed and weak that I just catch it and take his hand in my own again.

"He can do it, too," Mariah warns, rolling her eyes. Tala mutters something from behind his paper, but doesn't bother to share it with any of us.

It's at this point that Spencer walks in holding a small black leather-bound book, and stops in such a way and such a place that we all look up at him.

"I suppose none of you saw this when we cleaned up after our mysterious visitors, huh?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Three down.


	11. The Narcissistic Coffee Table

And again…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The coffee table must be feeling pretty damn happy right now. I mean, assuming the thing has feelings, it must be proud that it's surface can offer such a useful place for us all. We are, after all, all crowded around it, staring at the little black book that sits in it's center.

_I_ would feel pretty happy if I were getting that much attention, anyway.

"It's a freakin' hit list," Bryan says, interest practically running out of his mouth and down his chin.

... Ew. Scratch that.

"The names that are crossed out might be people he's killed," Spencer offers, flipping slowly through the pages. "But there aren't a lot of them."

"What are all these tally marks and crap?" Mariah asks. Most of the pages are filled with scribbles and notes, occasionally giving way to a name. So far, it looks like this Eli Holden has killed seven people.

"Who knows. Maybe he's a gun for hire." Tala reaches forward and snags the book from Spencer's fingers, flipping through it on his own. As he gets toward the back, he stops and reads carefully before an interesting look takes over his facial features.

"Your name is in here, kid. And it looks like he had quite a hard time finding you."

Kevin's forehead hits my shoulder and he groans. I lean into him a little, somehow feeling as though doing so would alleviate his worry. Mariah snaps her wrist forward and snatches the book for herself, earning a glare from Tala.

"Oh, eat it," she mutters in response to the look, finding the page Tala was on. She's silent for a minute before she looks toward her long-time friend with narrowed eyebrows.

"He's like, obsessed with you," she says. Her tone is one I've never heard before: interested, curious, terrified. Kevin finally takes the book for himself, and now I can see it.

The last five pages - of those that have writing on them - are all about him. The first one has some obscure handwriting that reads '_find his name_', '_might be affiliated with BBA_' and, creepiest of all, in big lettering that someone put effort in to, '_VIOLET EYES_'. The next page is full of scribbled-out notes, and from what I can make of it they're all possible locations. At the bottom is our flat address, circled angrily about four times around.

The rest are all little plots and schemes. The mall is there, illuminated with a blue highlighter; a first for this book, at least. He had scrawled _success_ at the very bottom of the page. Finally, on the last few pages, the plan to challenge Kevin to a fight looks like it was taking its time to unfold, and while Eli waited, it seemed as though all he could think to write was '_violet eyes_', again and again. That, and Kevin's name.

Holy balls.

Kevin silently hands the book to Spencer, his eyes staring blankly ahead. There's a long silence before Bryan snags it for his own turn, saying something about how there might be something else. I don't hear him; my entire being is focused on Kevin, who just stares at the table top. I imagine, at this point, that the coffee table is feeling a bit awkward. He was so happy to have that attention, but now that the air has gone stale and the mood has shifted, he doesn't want it any more.

Or she. There are girl coffee tables too, so don't look at me like I'm sexist. I just think our coffee table is a guy.

... I need coffee.

-x-x-x-

"Kak dela?"

Kevin stares at his feet, ignoring me blatantly.

"Na zdarov'e, Kevin."

"Goddamnit Ian, you know I can't speak a lick of Russian so shut your trap and stop trying to piss me off."

"Vy ne mogli by govorit' pomedlennee."

"Ian!"

"Okay, okay," I laugh, rising my hands to show that I mean no further harm, "I'm sorry. You just look so nervous."

He looks at me blankly. "Do I have reason _not_ to be?"

For some reason, I shrug. "No. But I've already told you that you'll be fine."

Silence engulfs us again. From where he is in the window seat, all the light from outside is pouring in over his face, making his eyes sparkle again. Tala and Spencer are speaking quietly to one another in the front seat. I wonder, for a moment, if we should have left Mariah and Bryan alone, but the woman insisted on calling and trying to convince Lee to come. So it was a lost cause to begin with.

"Ian?"

I snap myself back to reality. "Yeah?"

"The other night..." he begins slowly, staring at his knees as if they were truly interesting. "I mean... _Last_night. I tried to ask you, but..."

I lean toward him a bit. "But what?"

His eyes lift upward and lock on to mine, and we hold each other's attention for a long, solid time.

"How do you say 'I love you' in Russian?"

I blink. After a pause, "Ja teb'a l'ubl'u," slips out of my mouth, and he looks away.

"Just wondering."

For a minute I look at him stupidly before my hand lifts toward his shoulder and lands with an odd amount of grace. "Wait, why do you ask?"

"No reason," he whispers, looking toward me for a fraction of a second before he dips his head in and catches my lips in his own.

Then the car stops, and he pulls away and hops out, leaving me stupefied in the back seat.

-x-x-x-

Now, I've been in my share of sketch alleyways. And believe me when I say, some of them smell totally rank. But this? It's like filthy rain water and old fish. Don't tell Kevin that I said (thought?) this, (not that you could,) but it smells a lot like the alleys in Hong Kong the last time I was there.

Now, I'd like to think I'm a fair guy. Sure, I was raised with in an abbey-gone-evil in Russia with Bryan and Tala, but I wouldn't steal candy for a baby, or, say, surround myself with an overly-muscular entourage to make myself look more intimidating. Like this Eli character has done. When we arrived at the specified destination, with Tala trying to keep the neck of his shirt down off his nose so not to look too pompous, (but yeah, the smell was that bad,) we found what looked like a reenactment of Fast and the Furious. Minus the sweet cars and hot girls.

What a terrible movie _that_ would be.

They were all in the middle of something, and hardly gave us more than a glare, before a tall skinny guy – hell, maybe Spencer's height? – stepped out with a broad smile on his face. He was staring directly passed Tala and I at Kevin, who had gotten very quiet on the walk to this icky place.

… I just said icky. Don't theoretically tell Kevin that either.

"Wow, you actually _came_. Part of me would hoping I would have to keep hunting you."

… Pervert! I oughta-

"You didn't have to smash their apartment," Kevin says quietly. He doesn't look nearly as frightened as he did before. Maybe all that meditation crap he and his team always talked about really works. Assuming he found time to meditate… Hm. Nah, scratch that.

The tall guy shrugs and runs a broad hand through his ridiculous spiky blond hair. I wonder if he realizes that it's not 1995 anymore.

"They were hiding you from me: occupational hazard."

Tala is doing what he's best at; standing and looking at tall-and-blond with all the hate in the world. Eli seems unaffected with his goons coming up behind him.

… Where did Spencer go?

"So we blade, right?" Kevin asks beside me, looking up at him. It's like David and Goliath, but instead of a Jew and a giant, it's a little Chinese kid and… what is he, German? The ideal Aryan child. Bastard.

… Did I ever tell you that I'm Jewish?

"Yeah. Over there," Eli says with a smirk, pointing into the courtyard a few yards away.

It's not the religious thing: my time at the abbey pretty much knocked that out of me. It's the culture; the second my family took me back from the abbey, I was smooshed into a big Jew sandwich with gefilte fish and challah bread and shoved into the oven.

I shake my head, knocking away the blather and trying to clear my head. Coping mechanism or not, getting into tangents like that in a time of need is annoying as _fuck_.

The big brutes who haven't spoken since we arrived herded us toward a make-shift dish about three feet in diameter. It's sitting atop a piece of plywood about an inch thick, for some reason. The board is maybe… six-by-six? I don't know, I'm bad at measuring.

"So if I win, you'll leave me alone?"

"Yeah, sure," Eli says, flicking his hand back and forth as though he were swatting a fly. He takes his place on the far side of the dish and Kevin stands across from him, closer to where we had just entered from. Ha_ha_, bet you didn't see _that_ coming you ass, now we can bolt if we need too.

As I think this, the larger guys surround us and block our exit. Damn it all.

Seriously, where the fuck is Spencer?

"And if I lose?" Kevin asks cautiously. Tala crosses his arms over his chest and studies the board with curious apprehension.

"If you lose to me, _Kevin_, then you stay here, and your little friends leave."

"What?" Kevin stops mid-reach into his bag for his blade and looks at him in surprise and panic. I blink and look up, realizing that I had been staring at Kevin's ass. Tala holds his ground and doesn't show much response.

"If I beat you at this little game, kid, you're _mine_."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Four down.


	12. Odd Endings

And the last one. Thank you for reading!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kevin just stares at him. Eli's claim could mean anything, honestly, but I can only think of sexual things. Because hell, it's Kevin. So why wouldn't I? Kevin on the other hand sets his facial features into a frown and clenches his teeth. He lifts his blade and launcher from his back and aims them at the dish, holding his eyes squarely on Eli. The tall blond pervert mimics it and chuckles.

"Your count, mutt," he says with a bit of a snarl. I can picture Kevin's pupils tightening into slits at the racial slur, but he holds his composure and does a quick countdown.

It's almost nostalgic, listening to the sounds of the rip cords as they yank through the launchers. Feeling that small rush that surges through you as the blades smash into the dish and spiral around each other, like hawks waiting to dive. And then they collide, a clash of sparks, the tearing sound that can only be made by metal grinding into metal.

They don't seem to care for the idea of bit beasts. Eli is avoiding Kevin like it's a game, but Kevin is fast enough to catch up each time. And then I see it; in the middle of the ring, a small metal stick, like a nail, is sticking up. It's obvious that it's there, but I didn't notice it. Eli toys with Kevin a bit more before his blade suddenly rears away, shooting toward the metal. By the time any of us know what's happened, he smashes into it and knocks it clear out of the hole it was in.

Everything is quiet for a minute. Then, the sound of splintering wood can be heard from beneath them. Kevin looks down at his feet frantically and then over his shoulder to me. His eyes are confused and a little scared, even with the violet hue casting a gentle feeling through them.

Then the board their standing on splits into about five huge splinters, and Kevin, Eli, and the dish plummet down out of site.

Tala lunges forward and tries to grab for Kevin's shirt. I'm paralyzed by confusion and surprise, and don't react until I her Kevin scream. It's cut short by a loud splash, and then silence. I dive forward to the ledge of the hole and look into the blackness.

"_Kevin_!"

They had drilled the cement open into the sewer system below and rigged the stadium over it. I feel a meaty paw grip my upper right arm and try to tug me away, and on impulse I turn and bring my fist into the first thing I see; the guy's crotch. Sorry man, you're a henchman: 'occupational hazard'.

Tala has done something similar. Free from the confines of stooge-esque imprisonment, we both turn and leap down into the blackness without a second thought, following after my recently-appointed, adorable boyfriend-in-distress.

Or something like that.

Seconds after we splash into the water, this goes through my head: Jesus _Christ_, this water is so fucking cold! I break the surface gasping and flail about, looking with wide eyes for Kevin. The current is particularly strong, and we're both quickly swept away from the small cement ledge we had landed beside. Tala cries out Kevin's name, but we're answered with silence. No signs of the ply wood, no beystadium, no Eli, no Kevin. Tala takes only another minute of turning in place before he starts to swim along with the current.

"Kevin, answer me!" he screams. The current is quickly coming up on a three-point divide, forking off into one straight tunnel and two diagonal. They could have gone either way. As we draw up to it, Tala turns to me in the water and starts to tell me some half-assed plan on what to do when we hear it.

"Aah! _Help!_"

Left tunnel. We both strike out towards it, Tala moving like a shark, me splashing like the gayest dolphin the world has ever witnessed. I'm a bad swimmer and you will keep it to yourself.

"Kevin!" I call, trying not to swallow the sewage. With the walls closer together in the smaller tunnel, the current picks up, and we're carried along through the blackness until it starts to fade to green light. Up ahead, a small platform with a metal ladder that leads up to the street is illuminated beneath a green-tinted floodlight. On it, I can see Eli on top of Kevin, but we're behind them; I have no idea what he's doing.

Tala starts to stroke harder in the water. I don't think I've ever seen him swim, actually, but he's awful graceful. If we all make it out of this alright, I think I'll use this to poke fun at him. I could use some more bruises, anyway; mine are healing pretty well now.

Oddly enough, I get to the platform first. There must have been some kind of extra current alongside the wall, or maybe Tala isn't such a great swimmer after all. With all the adrenaline I have, I pull myself up out of the water and tackle Eli in a sloppy manner that I would prefer you didn't know about. To my surprise, he hardly budges from on top of Kevin, but from my new vantage point, I can see that his hands are around Kevin's neck, and Kevin is pink in the face.

His eyes are closing slowly. Without thought, I catch Eli I round the neck and yank to the right like they taught us in the abbey. The force pries him to the side far enough for Kevin to get an arm up and bring his cast into Eli's jaw.

I get knocked off into the wall, but Tala replaces me within the second. Eli cries out in rage and slashes his fists blindly, promptly losing his balance. He and Tala crash back into the water and are swept down farther into the darkness.

"Tala-" I start, reaching my hand toward him. He pushes Eli under the water and in turn lifts himself out, smiling at me.

"Don't worry, I've been needing this."

And then they vanish into the darkness around the bend. I kneel on the ledge, soaking wet with water running down my face, and stare after them.

Coughing. Shaking out of my daze, I turn to find Kevin sitting up, holding his throat with one hand. He has a bloody lower lip and bruised cheek, but the most striking thing is the red on his white cast. For a minute I think it's his, before I realize that it's Eli's.

"You okay?" I ask stupidly, moving to his side and helping him stay upright. He looks toward me with a blank, tired face before he smiles.

"… Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay. Are you?"

I laugh before I can think better of it. "Me? Yeah. I'm not exactly Bruce Willis, Kevin. I can save the day without getting covered in injuries."

He rolls his eyes and smiles, looking down at the blood on his cast. "He said he was going to rape me."

"… What?"

"Well… Not those words. But what else does 'make you my bitch' translate too?"

I stare at him. "Jesus. Good thing Tala got to him."

Kevin laughs, but it's fake. He's shivering, and it's not from cold. I wrap and arm around him carefully and pull him against my chest, resting my chin atop his head. He takes a shaky breath, and I think I hear a little whimper.

"I think I broke his jaw," he whispers.

"Good."

"Ian?"

"Yeah?"

He exhales slowly and sniffles. "… I love you."

And there it is. I'm not the brave, muscular hero with the perfectly chiseled face who saved the day without flaw. In fact, I'm the short annoying kid who can't really do much in the way of being a hero. And let's not forget my overly-unique nose. And yet, still, Kevin – smart, witty, beautiful Kevin – is here telling me that he loves me. I have to seize this moment and make it something meaningful and brilliant. I have to make it mine.

"Can you say it in Russian?"

Kevin blinks – I can _feel_ it. Then, after a pause, he laughs. It starts small, and grows slowly into a genuine, warm bubbly sound that I don't think I've ever heard him make.

"I don't love you _that_ much, Ian."

-x-x-x-

If it were a movie, the reason would have been street cred. Nothing but street cred, image, and ego. Which were all a part of it, but it doesn't take a genius to notice that Eli Holden was sick. In his official confession to the authorities after a lot of grilling and that little black book, he said that at first, he just wanted to do a clean job. Kill the guy he was hired to off, and kill the kid who had seen him do it.

But as he searched harder and harder for Kevin, he got more and more obsessed with what he had seen of the kid. Which were, understandable, his violet eyes glowing in the dark. It was an alley at night, after all. But it became this bizarre obsession, as evidence by the five pages in the back of the book.

I didn't hear the rest. He went into detail with some 'daydreams' of his, but none of us cared to hear them, even if we _had_ waited two months for him to get out of the hospital after Tala beat the shit out of him.

"Self defense" is such a diverse term, isn't it? Not to mention that Kevin actually_did_ break his jaw. That was a nice touch.

The teeth marks in Kevin's lower lip from where Eli had bit him healed pretty fast. All that's left is the cast, and a weariness about what's flying around his head.

Spencer, by the way, had gotten Bryan, Mariah, and Lee, who were all waiting at the top of the manhole for us when we crawled out. Tala had, in the struggle, dropped his phone onto the cement. Soaked though it was, the GPS Spencer was following still worked. So lucky us.

… Don't you love it when stories sum up so nicely? I do. And I wish this one did. But despite the bad guy getting put away, and the canon couple getting together, it's not exactly easy. He's been fighting Lee to stay with us. Lee, in return, says that if Kevin doesn't come home, he'll tell his parents. And everyone.

Which Kevin doesn't want, obviously. Not to mention Mariah wanting to stay as well, and the problem with Kai demanding Tala do him some "big favor" back in Russia. Spencer is still working full-time, and Bryan… Well, I don't know what Bryan is doing with his time. I never have.

So, again, I feel like every movie I've ever seen has lied to me. This sure as shit isn't the happiest ending I could have asked for.

But then… Maybe it is. Because right now, as I speak, Kevin is leaning forward and kissing me gently, waking me up. It's a beautiful sunny day, and all my bruises and aches are gone. Since that moment on the cement ledge, down in that dank sewer, everything has been made better in this particular department. I left all that old loneliness and depression behind, all that anxiety and anger about my life. My boredom, my emptiness, my…

Holy shit, my phone!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**End.**

No one likes perfectly happy endings anyways. ;)


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